No Eye Can See by Jane Kirkpatrick

Author:Jane Kirkpatrick [Kirkpatrick, Jane]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Historical Fiction, Fiction, General, Christian, Religious, Historical, Westerns, California, Western, Widows, Christian fiction, Women pioneers, Blind Women, Christian Women, Paperback Collection
ISBN: 9781578562336
Publisher: WaterBrook Press
Published: 2001-01-02T00:00:00+00:00

David Taylor rode in wearing a smile on his face. He looked at Oltipa as though she were a well-loved flower. Color rose on his neck when he saw her, then he turned quickly and tended to his horse and packs. Back inside, he handed her a bowl with a lily. “Chinese New Year,” he told her. “Every woman gets one.”

He stood far away from her after that and said little. She wondered if she had somehow offended him.

He whittled a sliver from a log and used it now to clean his teeth, threw the sliver in the fireplace and picked up his whip.

Something in the movement made Oltipa flinch.

“What? No, I'd never,” he said. “Just oiling it, that's all. Here, I'll put it away.”

Oltipa nodded once, forced a smile. The whip brought flashes of violent times, a burning bark house, her arms bound with rawhide thongs, her body tossed up behind the Modoc warrior as she watched the father of her child die. No. In this mans hands, the rawhide did good things. She must think of what was present, not past.

She picked up the whip, handed it to him. It was his work, and she had no right to keep him from it.

The smell of oil rubbed into leather with his fingers filled the air. She stirred up venison stew, added a precious onion he said “was the last one for sale in Shasta ‘til spring. Guess nothing'll discourage people who cant see anything but gold,” he continued, talking of white men's ways. He worked the leather, rubbed it across his thigh, looked up at her, then away. “Got some supper on, I see. I'll put this up.”

Her back ached from bending over the andiron and lifting the heavy pot. David took it from her, said, “Careful now. Don't want to hurt that baby. Oh, almost forgot.” He reached again into his bag. “It's a little painting of an eye like they do in France,” he said. “Supposed to be your sweetheart.” He coughed, pulled the small locket with a window that when opened showed an eye. “Lovers Eye, they call it. To remind you someone's thinking of you. Say, you look a little peaked. You all right?” He put the gift down quickly.

Oltipa winced and caught her breath. “Baby come,” she said and watched as David Taylor turned the color of spring leaves.

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